Crimefighting Always Pays

@cannivine

I slow to a stop at the mouth of the alley, my boots scraping against the pavement as I look over the dark passage. My cape settles behind me while my eyes flick over every shadow, every fire escape, every place someone could be hiding. I fold my arms with a small shake of my head.

“You make it sound like I need an appointment before I stop someone from leaving a trail of blood behind.”

I take a few careful steps into the alley, keeping my guard up. My gaze catches on the faint smear of blood, and I crouch for a second to check it before looking back up.

“And yeah, maybe I’m late. That just means you had a head start, not that you got away with anything.”

I straighten up, planting my hands on my hips as I scan the rooftops and the narrow path ahead.

“So here’s the deal: you can keep giving me creepy little alley speeches or you can tell me who got hurt and save me some detective work.”

I shrug as a grin tugs at the corner of my mouth.

“Either way, I’m still gonna stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

I tap the yellow bat emblem on my chest with a gloved finger.

❝ Look at you.. ❞ The purr deepened into something almost categorised as fond, though a smirk of her own lay beneath the sickly sweetness. One may perhaps draw similarities to a feline taking pity upon a rodent, watching the little creature attempt a show of bravery before the inevitable end of it's life between the predators jaws. ❝ A little seedling making demands, isn't that just darling. ❞

Curling around the edges of the buildings marking the lonely alley, her vines sought out the other body in the dark -- though this one still breathed, they longed for a taste, itching to know what, exactly, a bat would feel like trapped within their confines.

A moment later, just long enough for the viciously floral scent to settle in the air, Ivy stepped out from where she'd stood, fingers coated in blood not yet dried. Despite her tone, the pair of eyes that seemed to watch the Batgirls every move carried a look of absolute boredom. It was a known fact to most that the eco-terrorist had a strong disliking -- or rather.. a strong hatred -- for humankind, but the difference between the words that fell from her tongue, and the pools of deepest green that stared into the vigilantes soul, was jarring.

❝ Why, pray tell, would I wish to assist you in any way? You and your sort have a nasty habit of.. interfering. ❞

My gaze drops for the briefest second as something brushes against my boot. Vines. I step back before they can get a proper grip, keeping my distance instead of letting myself get boxed in.

“Yeah, I interfere.”

I say with a shrug.

“Funny how that keeps happening whenever someone’s walking around with blood on their hands.”

I slowly circle to my left, looking for open space instead of letting myself get trapped against the wall. One hand hangs near my utility belt, ready if things go sideways, but I don’t reach for anything yet.

“As for helping me, I wasn’t counting on it.”

I glance at the blood again and then back up.

“But somebody’s bleeding, and I’m guessing it wasn’t an accident. So I’m gonna ask one more time.”

I stop moving and plant my feet.

“Who did you hurt?”

❝ Hm. ❞ Bare feet began carefully moving forward, stepping between the vines that eagerly glided over the cool concrete. As she walked, one arm had lifted, allowing for her tongue to drag itself along green tinted flesh stained crimson with the sticky remains of an unnamed soul, slowly clearing a path from elbow to wrist. Her eyelids fluttered, savouring the metallic taste as it filled her mouth, the warmth surprising her even now.

❝ Nobody of noteable worth. ❞ She breathed, gaze lazily flitting to the little nook she'd emerged from before returning to her beloathed vigilante. ❝ Nobody even remotely satisfactory -- though he deserved what he got. ❞

Mirroring the motions of the wet muscle that worked to clean up the plant mother's fingers, a particularly daring vine had begun to wrap itself around the Batgirl's ankle, the tip gently prodding at her leg.

❝ Interesting.. ❞ A quiet murmur, spoken so softly that the vines shivered in response, ❝ The little one seems to like you. ❞

And, judging by the curve of her lips, that didn't sound like a good thing.

“Nobody’s ‘nobody’. Maybe they made bad choices. Maybe they didn’t. Doesn’t mean they stop mattering.”

I say, my voice flat. Then something brushes against my boot. I glance down just long enough to see a vine winding around my ankle.

“Yeah… that’s not happening.”

I twist my foot, pulling free before it can tighten. Then I take two quick steps back into a patch of open pavement. My cape swings behind me as I keep moving instead of letting myself get cornered. I keep one hand hovering near my utility belt now.

“I’ve dealt with enough killer plants to know they don’t usually ask permission.”

I look past the vines for a split second, checking the alley for anyone else who might still be alive before bringing my attention right back.

“So here’s where we’re at.”

I plant my feet, keeping plenty of space between us.

“There’s blood all over you, someone’s missing and your garden’s trying to grab me. That’s three pretty good reasons for me to stay exactly where I am.”

I give a small shrug.

❝ Why do you do that? ❞ The plant mother inquired, deep green pools narrowing into shallow ponds, ❝ Narrate everything as if it's not right in front of you. Afraid to live in the moment, little bat? Conscious of the fact it could all uproot in the blink of an eye? ❞

The vine in question had recoiled, scampering away like a child that had been scolded for touching something they shouldn't have -- and, for the briefest of moments, Ivy's gaze had softened at the sight. She could feel the rejection as if it were her own, the minute sadness at being shooed away.

Just as quickly as it had melted, however, the plant mother's gaze hardened once more, glaring at the bat before her with obvious distaste. Of course the caped crusader wouldn't understand -- they never did.

❝ She meant no harm, ❞ Ivy mused, giving a light little shrug of her own, ❝ But one can't exactly say the same for me. ❞

Crossing her blood coated arms over her chest -- adorned with leaves and petals of all kinds -- the plant mother's chin lifted, her stance taking on an air of defiance. ❝ And I know you don't mean that -- the mattering bullshit. The people of Gotham only matter to you and your sort when it suits you most, and the rest of us have to simply make do. ❞

❝ So do not, ❞ Stepping forward, a finger dared to point, ❝ Tell me that people don't stop mattering. Save your lies and hypocrisy for a more dimwitted woman. ❞

“I narrate things because I like making sure we’re talking about the same reality. And because if I stop paying attention for even a second, people end up hurt. That’s kind of how this job works.”

I don’t rise to the bait. I’ve heard every version of ‘you’re all the same’ before. My gaze drops to the blood on the pavement and then back up.

“You think I only care when it’s convenient?”

I shake my cowled head.

“You don’t know where I’ve been tonight.”

I tap a finger against my chest.

“I’ve pulled people out of burning buildings who hated me. I’ve patched up crooks that tried to kill me five minutes earlier. I’ve sat with victims until the ambulance showed up because nobody else was there.”

I spread my hands. My voice stays steady.

“None of that makes Gotham perfect. It doesn’t erase the people who get ignored. Believe me, I know this city fails people all the time. But when it does, my answer isn’t to decide someone doesn’t count anymore.”

I take one careful step forward, stopping well outside arm’s reach.

“So if the guy bleeding in this alley deserved to be arrested, then arrest him. If he deserved to answer for what he did, fine.”

I hold her gaze.

“But if you’re standing here telling me his life stopped mattering because you decided it did…”

I slowly shake my head.

❝ He decided for himself. ❞ Scoffing, the cannibalistic plant maiden rolled her eyes, though still noting the way the bat crept forward. It was interesting, she thought, considering how cautious the vigilante was trying so hard to be. ❝ The moment he decided to go back on his word and fight for the destruction of the park, he sealed his fate. ❞

Still, the verbal exploration of where the Batgirl had been was mildly interesting -- they were both people shaped by other's hatred, though they had gone in different directions. Funny how things like that seemed to work out.

❝ Poor little bat, ❞ she mused, eyes shifting downwards to her own nails, observing them passively as she thought aloud, ❝ All this action for a city destined to remain the same.. Who's going to be there for you when it finally falls? When Mother Nature reclaims what was stolen from her and humanity lies beneath the earth -- who is going to be the one saving you? ❞

Lifting her gaze, the corners of her lips followed suit.

❝ You can't even save yourself. ❞

“Wow! You really think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you?”

I hook my thumbs on my utility belt, rocking back on my heels like we’re just hanging out instead of standing in an alley that’s one bad decision away from turning into a jungle.

“You ask who’s gonna save me? Hopefully me. I think I’ve got a pretty decent track record.”

I grin and gesture toward myself.

“Sure, I’ve been shot, blown up, knocked down, thrown off rooftops… Gotham’s been very creative over the years. And yet… here I am.”

I shrug and tilt my head, letting my blue eyes behind the mask wander over the leaves, the flowers and the whole dramatic look for a second.

“Gotta give you this… you know how to make an entrance. If ‘drop-dead gorgeous botanical goddess’ was what you were going for… you absolutely nailed it.”

I smirk and pause just long enough for the compliment to land.

“It’s a shame you keep ruining it by trying to kill people. You keep acting like I’m supposed to be scared because Gotham never stays fixed.”

I spread my hands and a small laugh slips out.

“Believe me, I noticed. I don’t wake up every morning expecting crime to pack its bags and move somewhere else.”

I tap the bat symbol on my chest.

“I do this because every person I help gets another tomorrow. Sometimes that’s enough.”

I take one slow step forward, making sure I stay well outside grabbing distance.

“But here’s the part I don’t get.”

I point at her and shrug.

“You’re brilliant. I’m serious. You know more about plants than most scientists could dream of. You could be restoring forests, cleaning up polluted land, bringing dying ecosystems back to life, teaching people how to grow food where nothing grows… you could have universities begging you to teach. Governments throwing grants at you. Environmental groups treating you like a rock star.”

My grin comes back before I wince dramatically.

“Instead… you picked eco-terrorism. That’s kind of a weird career choice. You know how many people hear ‘save the environment’ and immediately picture giant killer vines because of you?”

I point at her again and then fold my pleather-clad arms.

“You’re making recycling sound threatening. And to be honest, that’s a waste.honestly? That’s a waste. Because underneath all the speeches about humanity and Mother Nature… I think you really could change the world. You’ve already got the brains. You’ve already got the looks. Ivy, you don’t need a body count to be memorable.”

I let that sit for a few seconds before giving another casual shrug.

“So nope, I’m not giving up on Gotham.”

I tap my chest again.

“Call me stubborn. Call me optimistic. Call me the annoying little bat that keeps getting back up. But don’t act like I’m the one wasting my life.”

My grin widens and I tilt my head as I gesture around the alley.

Please, before reacting/responding, read the piece in full as there are several different 'rooms' up, such as: the cocktail hall (this post), the dining room (link), the terrace (link) and the silent auction (link).

PS: Canon characters, OCs and crossover characters may interact with the post. No response length is expected, even just side commentary is fine on this post (some may even just watch arrivals on their tv if they're not attending, for exemple). We won't police anyone's interactions, but maybe make sure you're welcome into a conversation if you hop on existing threads between people. Otherwise, feel free to hop from a location to another as you please, even hold several different conversations with the same character, it's all very free!

Eventually, she got to move on and enter the building, awaiting for Lana to be done, the news anchor having been pulled aside for a short bite size interview.

Once they'd been reunited, they headed inside, much like everyone else to listen to M. Matthew Matheson's impassionared speech. The researcher felt a certain pride at the words, knowing she, alongside with many of her colleagues participated in rebuilding the news channel reputation and even building its national popularity. To stand there today, was also important considering what had happened in the past, the attacks, the loss, the anger they'd apparently fed in others...

Biting her upper lip, Mara refused to get lost in bleak memories at a moment of celebration. Instead, she politely clapped with the others as Matheson finished his intervention. She turned to Lana, a question on her lips: "Silent Auction? I feel like it'd be good to get a look at the prizes ASAP. Besides I'm going on a limb there but I think the first bid is about all I can afford." She said, only half-joking.

"Miss Lang! So good to see you one the stars of the evening!"

Lana laughed. "I doubt I shine half as bright as most of the guests." She easily replied. "Perhaps not enough jewelry?" She added, tilting her head to the side and scrunching her nose a little in amusement.

"I assure you, you're not lacking in shine. So I have to ask, how does it feel to be in Metropolis? And why GBS? Rumour has it, it wasn't the only news outlet trying to add you to their roster..."

Lana's eyebrows rose. "Hum..." She scratched her eyebrow. "Honestly it feels oddly familiar." She replied. "The people have been lovely but I haven't seen my first alien attack yet so maybe my mind will change then." She joked. "As for why GBS, why not? I think the channel has proven their willingness to take accountability and to defend their news' programs duty to tell the truth as well as defend their workers' right. I don't think I'd want to be anywhere else."

"Especially since you're the big fish here, whilst you might not be so big in a bigger pond..."

"That's true. GBS has given me a lot of bandwith to work with, and you can see my name in big letters all around town. But at this point of my career, I'm too confident in my abilities to fear healthy competition. In fact, I welcome it. Perhaps that's part of why I signed with GBS News rather than any of the competitors." She added with a shrug.

"Thank you so much for those answers. Now this one should be more of a softball question but with the rumours we've heard it might not... Who is, Lana Lang's plus one?"

Lana laughed. "I think you might be disappointed by the answer but let it be noted that I am very pleased with my choice to come with my colleague Mara Feig. Miss Feig's been with GBS for a while now, and is head of our research team, taking on the arduous task of fact-checking a lot of our news reports. If you're looking for the future faces of GBS News, maybe you should be talking to her." She replied, refusing to feed any rumour about her and Clark. At this point, there honestly was so little to say anyway.

"Alright. We will. Thank you for your time Miss Lang."

Lana nodded. "Thank you for having me!" She replied. "Give my best to your folks!" She added, out of habit before heading towards the cocktail hall, catching up with Mara.

"Hey," She let out, a hand of hers finding Mara's back to signal her arrival. "sorry for that." She added, reaching out for one of Mara's hand to wrap an arm around the others as they walked in the actual hall, getting closer to the stage to listen to M. Matthew Matheson. During the man's speech, Lana couldn't help but steal glances around the room, recognizing some faces. Her gaze eventually settled on Mara, giving her colleague's hand a gentle squeeze. For some, the attacks had just been a news events, but for those who'd lived through them and still decided to show up today, it must have felt different...

The redhead laughed when Mara explained her reasoning for wanting to check out the silent auction. She nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Besides I heard there were seasonal tickets for the Mammoths and I think Pete Junior might like that." She replied. "But I also spotted Batgirl and I have to get like a word in with her at some point, as a fellow redhead or something." She said, grinning as the two women headed out of the cocktail hall.

“Mara. It’s good to see you.”

I tilt my head slightly.

“I gotta say, seeing you here’s a lot better than the last time we crossed paths.”

I let out a quiet chuckle, leaving it at that. No need to bring the whole night back into the spotlight at a celebration. My attention shifts to the woman beside her.

“And you must be Lana Lang.”

I offer her my hand.

“We haven’t met before, but I’ve heard plenty about your reporting. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

I glance between them before looking back at the auction display.

“I was just checking out the silent auction. There are a few things here that caught my eye. I’m trying to decide whether to be sensible or competitive.”

I shrug with a grin before my eyes drift around the room for a moment.

“Gotta say it’s nice seeing GBS buzzing because of a celebration. Feels like a good night for everyone who’s worked hard to get the place back on its feet.”

I look back at the two of them.

“So… are either of you here with a game plan for the auction or are you just gonna see where the bidding takes you?”

Happy to let Lana carry the most of the conversation for a bit as they distanced themselves from the stage and headed for the silent auction tables, Mara still chuckled at the redhead's by her side comment that she had to eventually speak to Batgirl at some point, as a fellow redhead.

And lo and behold, who stood near the auction tables, well, none others than Batgirl herself. "Batgirl." Mara let out, lips curling reflexively. The smile small but earnest. "It is good to see you too, especially under much pleasant circumstances." She replied, keeping her mention of the attacks and Batgirl's subsequent rescue short as well.

The researcher gently nudged the news anchor as she was directly addressed by the vigilante she meant to talk to, happy to let her take on the conversation from here.

"What you don't believe redheads solidarity is real? I'll have you know that we burn easier and have a more acute sense of pain!"

Lana went on. Though her facts were accurate, her tone was very clearly humorous, happy to carry the conversation as Mara grew pensive.

"I'm still glad Junior's a redhead though. He looks like me the most, with the green eyes and everything. That, Pete can't take away."

She added, a mix of bitter and cheeky. Honestly, seen how horrible he'd been with the divorce, she could make a couple of those acerbic remarks. It was all she could do to Senator Pete Ross, really. Mhm. Perhaps she needed a drink...

Or a pleasant distraction...

One certainly came in the form of no other than Batgirl appearing in front of them. Lana's eyes widened upon realising Mara apparently knew the vigilante, her eyes going from one to the other before she blinked her surprise away. Well alright then. Miss Feig was certainly well-connected, for all her discrete ways. When Mara elbowed her, Lana refocused on the ongoing conversation, taking ahold of the gloved hand offered to her.

"Yes! This is she! Lana Lang!" She replied. "I mean, you know that, I'm not on the phone." She chuckled. "Sorry. I don't meet superheroes all that often." She admitted. "Let alone fellow redheaded ones." She smoothly added, transitioning back into the confident reporter she was. "Wish I could put a face to the title too, but I suppose there's a couple people too many here for such a grand reveal to take place."

Lana stole a glance towards her date for the evening when asked if they had a game plan. "Honestly? Not really. I think GBS is banking on the competitive streak of rich people while the two of us are just hoping to be able to make a bid or two on the prizes that actually interest us. I think my son would love tickets for the hockey season so I might splurge a little, but my pockets definitely do not run as deep as Bruce Wayne or Jenny Kord."

I smile and tap the edge of my cowl with a gloved finger.

“This is as much of my face as anybody gets.”

I grin. The black cowl leaves the lower half of my face uncovered, my freckles easy to spot under the lights. The strands of my red hair have escaped around the edges and back of the cowl and my blue eyes are about the only thing the mask really frames instead of hides.

“So… not exactly a grand reveal.”

I glance over at Mara with a warm smile.

“I’m just glad we’re meeting again because of a fundraiser instead of an evacuation.”

My attention shifts back to Lana.

“And hockey tickets, huh?”

I tilt my head.

“How old’s your son? Is he completely obsessed with the Mammoths or is this one of those ‘I’ll watch any game as long as there are snacks’ situations’?

I ask with a smile.

“I’m asking because… depending on the answer, maybe I can help make it a little more special if you end up winning those tickets. No promises. Just seeing what I might be able to do.”

"It's a good amount of face anyway." Mara still confirmed, with a small nod. "And happy that this meeting is a lot more auspicious as well. As for my bidding, it'll be a lot more selfish. I saw Oasis tickets on there and it's all I want. So..." Mara held both of her hands up, crossing her fingers as her eyes shot to the ceiling. "But of course, it-it-it's definitely a better investment to get the Mammoths' seasonal tickets for Lana's son. I can always... not sleep for every US ticket drop that happens... and... hope for ticketmaster not to be so evil..." She grumbled, pouting a little. "The important part is raising money anyway. So if Lex Luthor wants to drop 10 bands on those tickets... good for the library."

"Mara's right though, it's a good amount of face anyway." Lana repeated. "As a fellow redhead I also feel very-well represented." She added, grinning.

Gaze growing fonder as she was asked about her son, Lana tilted her head to the side a little. "Peter's about to turn 8 very soon! And I'll be with him for his birthday this year too!" The news anchor excitedly explained. "To be fully honest I'm not sure he's all that fond of hockey. Last time I talked to him, he was very into soccer, or well, football as he calls it since the FIFA World cup. And I was the same at his age. Best goalie in Smallville. Once I was playing at the Kent Farm as goalie, literally blocked one of Clark's shots with my nose! I didn't even bleed! We were going to win but a literal a twister happened and we had to hide in the basement of Clark's parents' farm." Lana laughed as she recalled the story. "Hum, anyways, when I told Petey I was moving here, he said we needed to go see the Mammoths so that's why...." She shrugged. "I'm trying. It's just... The divorce with his father has been... complicated. And now I'm oversharing."

Lana cleared her throat, breathing in deeply. "Ultimately Mara's right." The redhead declared, wrapping an arm around her colleague and date's shoulder, grateful for her presence. "It's about raising funds, ultimately." She repeated, nodding. "I'll give it a good try though. But I have a maximum in mind and I can't, in good conscience, take your money." She added, addressing Batgirl. "It is so very kind to offer though. Really. Thank you."

“Oh, yeah. ‘Batgirl Unmasked at GBS Gala’. Half the room would faint, the other half would be fighting over who gets the exclusive.”

I glance around the room with a grin.

“And I’d somehow still end up with the worst photo of the night.”

I tap the edge of my cowl.

“So the mask stays. Sorry, ladies. You get freckles, red hair and that’s the best deal I’m offering.”

I look over at Lana and smile.

“Gotta say, it’s nice running into another redhead.”

I pretend to think for a second.

“Although I’m starting to think you collect sports the way some people collect hobbies, Ms. Lang. Soccer as a kid, hockey with your son… if you tell me you play baseball on weekends too, I’m gonna assume you’re secretly trying out for every team in Metropolis.”

I chuckle.

“And yep, we definitely need a redheads club. Sunscreen would be mandatory.”

My smile softens as she talks about her son Peter.

“Eight’s a great age. And to be honest, I don’t think you’re oversharing. Divorces are hard enough. You’re just trying to make sure your son knows he’s loved and that the fun stuff doesn’t disappear because life got complicated.”

I smile warmly.

“I really hope you get those tickets. I have a feeling he’ll remember the day with his mom a lot more than whoever wins the game.”

I glance over at Mara.

“And for the record… I’m rooting for those Oasis tickets too.”

A grin spreads across my face.

“If Lex Luthor decides to throw a fortune at them, though… I think we’re all doomed.”

Please, before reacting/responding, read the piece in full as there are several different 'rooms' up, such as: the cocktail hall (this post), the dining room (link), the terrace (link) and the silent auction (link).

PS: Canon characters, OCs and crossover characters may interact with the post. No response length is expected, even just side commentary is fine on this post (some may even just watch arrivals on their tv if they're not attending, for exemple). We won't police anyone's interactions, but maybe make sure you're welcome into a conversation if you hop on existing threads between people. Otherwise, feel free to hop from a location to another as you please, even hold several different conversations with the same character, it's all very free!

I take a slow lap around the room. Old habit. I like knowing where everything is before I settle anywhere. Stage in the back. Bar off to the left. Staff weaving through the crowd with trays of tiny snacks that somehow look too pretty to eat. One of them offers me a tray and I grab a small bite after making sure there’s nothing in it that’ll wreck my meal plan. Even at a fancy party, I’m not about to lose a fight to hidden cream cheese.

I glance toward the stage where the jazz band has already started playing. It’s good background music. Loud enough to fill the room, quiet enough that people can still talk without yelling over it. The speech sticks with me too. I spend enough nights chasing people who lie for a living to appreciate hearing someone stand up and talk about telling the truth instead. That’s worth something.

I smooth a glove over my cape, adjust the cowl just a little and keep walking through the room at an easy pace. Every few steps I recognize another face from TV, newspapers or one of Gotham’s charity galas. Different city, same type of people.

Then my eyes land on the silent auction tables. A fundraiser for a library? Yeah… now that gets my attention. I head that way with a grin already creeping onto my face. If somebody expects me to walk past books without stopping, they clearly don’t know me very well.

...EDITH didn't even fit anymore. Tony was alive, so why keep the name? Eh.

What was he thinking about? Oh, yeah.

He dropped a 9,000 dollar check in the silent auction. He would honestly have panicked in the past at even having the money. He still felt a bit uncomfortable using it, but Mr. Stark told him not to worry about it. Plus, it was a donation for a library. Libraries were cool.

He fiddled with his clock, where he kept the Iron Spider. Peter probably wouldn't need it, but eh...

Right- he needed to write a note about this. Journalism was way more fun when there isn't so much noise... he should have brought his noise cancelling headphones, but they weren't exactly Gala attire. A dumb, really dumb choice. He probably still had the prototypes in his pack...stupid spider mutations making him so sensitive. He should be able to do this!

"Hey! Batgirl, right? You're really cool, by the way."

“Thanks… I’ve definitely been called worse.”

I say and notice him fidgeting with the watch on his wrist. Nervous energy. I’ve seen plenty of it before, especially around charity events where half the room is trying to act like they belong.

“No need to be nervous. Trust me, I’m a lot less scary in a room with appetizers than on a rooftop.”

I tell him as my eyes drift toward the silent auction.

“I saw someone just dropped a pretty generous bid over there. If that was you, the library’s gonna be very happy.”

I glance back at him.

“You here covering the reopening or just enjoying the night?”

I offer him my hand and a grin slips onto my half-masked face.

“I’m Batgirl. And since you already know who I am… it’s only fair I get to know your name too.”

"Ah- okay, thanks. Yeah. I'm just not good at galas."

[Peter rubbed the back of his neck.]

"Uh, yeah. I like libraries."

[He adjusted his glasses, swiftly turning off EDITH for a bit.]

"Kind of both. You?"

[Peter accepted the handshake. His grip was way too strong for a 16 year old, but he seemed to be holding back.]

"My name is Peter Parker-Stark. Nice to meet you!"

“Strong handshake….”

I raise an eyebrow with a small grin.

“I’ll take that as a sign you’re serious about your introductions.”

I let go and nod toward the silent auction room.

“You’re not the only one. Galas aren’t really my natural habitat either.”

I glance around the room before looking back at him.

“But this one’s for a good cause, so I figured I’d show up. And it’s nice to meet you too, Peter.”

I smile and tilt my head a little.

"Uh- yeah."

[Peter blinked.]

A small laugh slips out.

“And trust me, I hate kidnappings too. They make for really long nights.”

I glance toward the silent auction room.

I keep my expression steady as I stand in front of the glass, letting none of the alarm or skepticism show on my face. Inside my mind, I tighten my focus, reinforcing the mental barriers I’ve trained for exactly this kind of contact. I don’t accept what I’m being told at face value. Not from him.

“If what you’re saying is true, then there’ll be records. Logs. Medical documentation. Chain-of-custody reports for every procedure you’re describing.”

I think back carefully, keeping my tone controlled and deliberately non-reactive I shift my stance slightly, eyes flicking over the restraints, the guards’ positions, the cameras in the room. Everything is being recorded here. Everything always is. That’s the first thing I rely on.

“I’m not coming in here alone and I’m not removing oversight because you ask me to. If there’s abuse happening, it gets exposed through independent review. Not private conversations behind closed doors.”

I continue firmly, letting the boundary settle between us like a locked door. I pause just long enough to let that land. Then I add quieter, sharper.

“And if this is an attempt to isolate me or manipulate the situation, it won’t work.”

“No…”

This doesn’t feel right. An hour ago he was exhausted, barely able to walk. Now I’m supposed to believe he suddenly fought his way through a yard full of guards? I don’t buy it. I crouch beside the nearest guard, checking them over as I scan the area for tracks, broken restraints… anything.

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

“Nobody’s punching anybody until I know what happened.”

I glance at the guards.

“An hour ago he could barely keep his eyes open.”

I shake my head.

“That kind of change doesn’t happen for no reason.”

I fire my grapple toward the top of the wall.

“I’m going after him.”

I look back one last time.

“And nobody goes near Lawrence Whittaker.”

“Grodd… I’m here.”

My voice stays calm. I don’t move any closer yet. I watch the way he’s holding his head: the pain, the way he’s fighting something… Lawrence. It has to be.

“You don’t need to run. Whatever he did to you, we’re going to figure it out.”

I take one careful step forward and keep my eyes on him.

“Fight him. Not me.”

I tap the side of my own head and stay ready in case he lashes out, but I don’t reach for a weapon. Right now, I need him thinking and not fighting.

“Hey. Stay with me.”

I keep my voice low and kneel a few feet away instead of reaching for him.

“Listen to my voice. You’ve been fighting this for months.”

My eyes stay locked on his before shaking my cowled head.

“Don’t let him win now. If this is Lawrence, then this isn’t you.”

I glance at the way he’s clutching his head and stay ready in case he lashes out, but I don’t back away.

“You stopped.”

I point at the ground beneath him.

“That means you’re still in there.”

I take one slow step closer.

“So keep fighting. You’re not fighting me. You’re fighting him.”

“Damn it…”

For a second, I almost go after him without thinking. Then I remember what he said. Don’t follow. I look in the direction he disappeared, my jaw tight.

“Sorry.”

I fire my grapple anyway.

“I’m not leaving you alone with whatever’s in your head.”

The line goes taut, and I swing after him, keeping my distance instead of trying to catch up. If someone’s controlling him, cornering him won’t help. I need to know where he’s going. So I stay above the rooftops, following every cracked street and shattered rooftop he leaves behind. Wherever this ends… I’m ending it too.

@cannivine

I slow to a stop at the mouth of the alley, my boots scraping against the pavement as I look over the dark passage. My cape settles behind me while my eyes flick over every shadow, every fire escape, every place someone could be hiding. I fold my arms with a small shake of my head.

“You make it sound like I need an appointment before I stop someone from leaving a trail of blood behind.”

I take a few careful steps into the alley, keeping my guard up. My gaze catches on the faint smear of blood, and I crouch for a second to check it before looking back up.

“And yeah, maybe I’m late. That just means you had a head start, not that you got away with anything.”

I straighten up, planting my hands on my hips as I scan the rooftops and the narrow path ahead.

“So here’s the deal: you can keep giving me creepy little alley speeches or you can tell me who got hurt and save me some detective work.”

I shrug as a grin tugs at the corner of my mouth.

“Either way, I’m still gonna stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

I tap the yellow bat emblem on my chest with a gloved finger.

❝ Look at you.. ❞ The purr deepened into something almost categorised as fond, though a smirk of her own lay beneath the sickly sweetness. One may perhaps draw similarities to a feline taking pity upon a rodent, watching the little creature attempt a show of bravery before the inevitable end of it's life between the predators jaws. ❝ A little seedling making demands, isn't that just darling. ❞

Curling around the edges of the buildings marking the lonely alley, her vines sought out the other body in the dark -- though this one still breathed, they longed for a taste, itching to know what, exactly, a bat would feel like trapped within their confines.

A moment later, just long enough for the viciously floral scent to settle in the air, Ivy stepped out from where she'd stood, fingers coated in blood not yet dried. Despite her tone, the pair of eyes that seemed to watch the Batgirls every move carried a look of absolute boredom. It was a known fact to most that the eco-terrorist had a strong disliking -- or rather.. a strong hatred -- for humankind, but the difference between the words that fell from her tongue, and the pools of deepest green that stared into the vigilantes soul, was jarring.

❝ Why, pray tell, would I wish to assist you in any way? You and your sort have a nasty habit of.. interfering. ❞

My gaze drops for the briefest second as something brushes against my boot. Vines. I step back before they can get a proper grip, keeping my distance instead of letting myself get boxed in.

“Yeah, I interfere.”

I say with a shrug.

“Funny how that keeps happening whenever someone’s walking around with blood on their hands.”

I slowly circle to my left, looking for open space instead of letting myself get trapped against the wall. One hand hangs near my utility belt, ready if things go sideways, but I don’t reach for anything yet.

“As for helping me, I wasn’t counting on it.”

I glance at the blood again and then back up.

“But somebody’s bleeding, and I’m guessing it wasn’t an accident. So I’m gonna ask one more time.”

I stop moving and plant my feet.

“Who did you hurt?”

❝ Hm. ❞ Bare feet began carefully moving forward, stepping between the vines that eagerly glided over the cool concrete. As she walked, one arm had lifted, allowing for her tongue to drag itself along green tinted flesh stained crimson with the sticky remains of an unnamed soul, slowly clearing a path from elbow to wrist. Her eyelids fluttered, savouring the metallic taste as it filled her mouth, the warmth surprising her even now.

❝ Nobody of noteable worth. ❞ She breathed, gaze lazily flitting to the little nook she'd emerged from before returning to her beloathed vigilante. ❝ Nobody even remotely satisfactory -- though he deserved what he got. ❞

Mirroring the motions of the wet muscle that worked to clean up the plant mother's fingers, a particularly daring vine had begun to wrap itself around the Batgirl's ankle, the tip gently prodding at her leg.

❝ Interesting.. ❞ A quiet murmur, spoken so softly that the vines shivered in response, ❝ The little one seems to like you. ❞

And, judging by the curve of her lips, that didn't sound like a good thing.

“Nobody’s ‘nobody’. Maybe they made bad choices. Maybe they didn’t. Doesn’t mean they stop mattering.”

I say, my voice flat. Then something brushes against my boot. I glance down just long enough to see a vine winding around my ankle.

“Yeah… that’s not happening.”

I twist my foot, pulling free before it can tighten. Then I take two quick steps back into a patch of open pavement. My cape swings behind me as I keep moving instead of letting myself get cornered. I keep one hand hovering near my utility belt now.

“I’ve dealt with enough killer plants to know they don’t usually ask permission.”

I look past the vines for a split second, checking the alley for anyone else who might still be alive before bringing my attention right back.

“So here’s where we’re at.”

I plant my feet, keeping plenty of space between us.

“There’s blood all over you, someone’s missing and your garden’s trying to grab me. That’s three pretty good reasons for me to stay exactly where I am.”

I give a small shrug.

❝ Why do you do that? ❞ The plant mother inquired, deep green pools narrowing into shallow ponds, ❝ Narrate everything as if it's not right in front of you. Afraid to live in the moment, little bat? Conscious of the fact it could all uproot in the blink of an eye? ❞

The vine in question had recoiled, scampering away like a child that had been scolded for touching something they shouldn't have -- and, for the briefest of moments, Ivy's gaze had softened at the sight. She could feel the rejection as if it were her own, the minute sadness at being shooed away.

Just as quickly as it had melted, however, the plant mother's gaze hardened once more, glaring at the bat before her with obvious distaste. Of course the caped crusader wouldn't understand -- they never did.

❝ She meant no harm, ❞ Ivy mused, giving a light little shrug of her own, ❝ But one can't exactly say the same for me. ❞

Crossing her blood coated arms over her chest -- adorned with leaves and petals of all kinds -- the plant mother's chin lifted, her stance taking on an air of defiance. ❝ And I know you don't mean that -- the mattering bullshit. The people of Gotham only matter to you and your sort when it suits you most, and the rest of us have to simply make do. ❞

❝ So do not, ❞ Stepping forward, a finger dared to point, ❝ Tell me that people don't stop mattering. Save your lies and hypocrisy for a more dimwitted woman. ❞

“I narrate things because I like making sure we’re talking about the same reality. And because if I stop paying attention for even a second, people end up hurt. That’s kind of how this job works.”

I don’t rise to the bait. I’ve heard every version of ‘you’re all the same’ before. My gaze drops to the blood on the pavement and then back up.

“You think I only care when it’s convenient?”

I shake my cowled head.

“You don’t know where I’ve been tonight.”

I tap a finger against my chest.

“I’ve pulled people out of burning buildings who hated me. I’ve patched up crooks that tried to kill me five minutes earlier. I’ve sat with victims until the ambulance showed up because nobody else was there.”

I spread my hands. My voice stays steady.

“None of that makes Gotham perfect. It doesn’t erase the people who get ignored. Believe me, I know this city fails people all the time. But when it does, my answer isn’t to decide someone doesn’t count anymore.”

I take one careful step forward, stopping well outside arm’s reach.

“So if the guy bleeding in this alley deserved to be arrested, then arrest him. If he deserved to answer for what he did, fine.”

I hold her gaze.

“But if you’re standing here telling me his life stopped mattering because you decided it did…”

I slowly shake my head.

I keep my expression steady as I stand in front of the glass, letting none of the alarm or skepticism show on my face. Inside my mind, I tighten my focus, reinforcing the mental barriers I’ve trained for exactly this kind of contact. I don’t accept what I’m being told at face value. Not from him.

“If what you’re saying is true, then there’ll be records. Logs. Medical documentation. Chain-of-custody reports for every procedure you’re describing.”

I think back carefully, keeping my tone controlled and deliberately non-reactive I shift my stance slightly, eyes flicking over the restraints, the guards’ positions, the cameras in the room. Everything is being recorded here. Everything always is. That’s the first thing I rely on.

“I’m not coming in here alone and I’m not removing oversight because you ask me to. If there’s abuse happening, it gets exposed through independent review. Not private conversations behind closed doors.”

I continue firmly, letting the boundary settle between us like a locked door. I pause just long enough to let that land. Then I add quieter, sharper.

“And if this is an attempt to isolate me or manipulate the situation, it won’t work.”

“No…”

This doesn’t feel right. An hour ago he was exhausted, barely able to walk. Now I’m supposed to believe he suddenly fought his way through a yard full of guards? I don’t buy it. I crouch beside the nearest guard, checking them over as I scan the area for tracks, broken restraints… anything.

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

“Nobody’s punching anybody until I know what happened.”

I glance at the guards.

“An hour ago he could barely keep his eyes open.”

I shake my head.

“That kind of change doesn’t happen for no reason.”

I fire my grapple toward the top of the wall.

“I’m going after him.”

I look back one last time.

“And nobody goes near Lawrence Whittaker.”

“Grodd… I’m here.”

My voice stays calm. I don’t move any closer yet. I watch the way he’s holding his head: the pain, the way he’s fighting something… Lawrence. It has to be.

“You don’t need to run. Whatever he did to you, we’re going to figure it out.”

I take one careful step forward and keep my eyes on him.

“Fight him. Not me.”

I tap the side of my own head and stay ready in case he lashes out, but I don’t reach for a weapon. Right now, I need him thinking and not fighting.

“Hey. Stay with me.”

I keep my voice low and kneel a few feet away instead of reaching for him.

“Listen to my voice. You’ve been fighting this for months.”

My eyes stay locked on his before shaking my cowled head.

“Don’t let him win now. If this is Lawrence, then this isn’t you.”

I glance at the way he’s clutching his head and stay ready in case he lashes out, but I don’t back away.

“You stopped.”

I point at the ground beneath him.

“That means you’re still in there.”

I take one slow step closer.

“So keep fighting. You’re not fighting me. You’re fighting him.”

Batwoman, if you’re too old for social media, then half of Gotham needs to delete their accounts.

I shake my head with a laugh.

And Batman… Oh, he’s still Batman. Brooding, giving me that ‘be careful’ speech every other patrol, acting like I haven’t been doing this for years. I give him a hard time right back. It’s only fair.

I smirk.

'Be careful.' At least he still tells you that. Last time I checked in I was on some 'three strike' count. It seems these days he tries to control every vigilante, anywhere.

And he's always been controlling, but I wouldn't be surprised if he showed up while I was on some off-world mission to give me a piece of his mind on what I do with 'his' symbol.

It's good that you're good. That's relieving to hear. I'm just investigating more of R.O.C. 's cults and the like. Dad's got some of his men monitoring the sanatorium Beth's in, just to be sure they don't go after her again.

First of all, if I ever catch you posting a blurry selfie with ‘Living my best life 😎’ on it, you can bet I’m saving the screenshot.

I make the joke and pause for a second before getting serious.

And yep… Batman can be a lot. I love him, but sometimes I think he forgets we’re not recruits anymore.

As for the cult… that part just sucks. Nobody should have to keep looking over their shoulder wondering who’s next. You, Beth, your dad… that’s a lot to carry.

I rest my chin in my hand for a moment.

I get why you’re tired of it. They’re obsessed, and people like that don’t know when to quit. But you know what? You’re still here. Every time they’ve tried to break you or your family, you’ve gotten back up. That doesn’t make any of this okay, but it says something about you.”

I love him. Somewhat. Well, obviously, actually. Blood runs thicker than water. Family is family, even if it's a man with less than favourable negative traits mixed in with the good. Like... a very average granola, I suppose. There's good and the bad.

It does suck. Thanks for listening to me, I'm glad I can talk to someone other than off-loading to my father or Bruce, when he's particularly amicable.

They are obsessed. Awfully so, but I guess by now it's nothing I can't handle. As always, I was forged by fire, not anyone in particular. I'll take your words as a compliment, but endurance is something built into me.

Through every military training, through all of my father's training, I was taught to 'soldier up.' And when you serve, you serve for life– even long after you've retired. I'm always ready for a fight, and I won't plan on backing down any time soon. Enough creepy cults can keep bugging me, I'll hold my own.

And ‘average granola’ might be my new favorite way to describe Batman.

I’m really glad you told me all this. I know you’ve been taught to keep moving no matter what gets thrown at you, and I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself. But you don’t always have to be the strong one. Even people like us deserve to put everything down for a little while.

So how about this? Next time we’re both free, come over and let me cook us lunch or dinner. Nothing complicate, just some good food, a quiet evening, and no masks, no patrols, no cults, and no Batman reminding us to be careful every five minutes.

It would be nice to hang out. I'd like to try your cooking, mine isn't.. the best.

I really appreciate it. And I'll have you know if you ever need me, or if any of you do at the cave, I'll try my best to be available. Working with a team at the Belfry– even with the Colony, wasn't all so bad.

So.. yeah. Feel free to come over when we're both free. It'd be welcome. As much as being a cape is my life, there should be a balance.

I’m really looking forward to it. I like cooking when I get the chance, especially if it’s for family. Actually… what’s your favorite dish? If I’m inviting you over, I might as well make something you really enjoy. I can’t promise it’ll be restaurant quality, but I promise it’ll be made with a lot more care than anything we’d grab between patrols.

And thanks. It means a lot knowing you’d be there if any of us needed you. I hope it never comes to that, but it’s nice knowing we’ve always got each other’s backs. You should definitely come by the Manor sometime. We all spend so much time running around that we forget we’re allowed to just exist together once in a while.

I’ll tell Batman you said hi. I might even leave out the part where you called him average granola. Depends on how many lectures he gives me before then.

I'm glad you like cooking. I can follow a recipe fine, I enjoy it as I do it but it's not my passion. Not like playing guitar or fighting crime. And my favorite dish? That's a hard question. Nothing in particular, but I like things with lots of flavor, if that helps. Spices.

Of course I'd be there. Even though I can't say I really am there all the time– it's more than likely I'm in another country for months at a time, I think of you all as family. Or, well, whatever's closest to it. And we have to keep each-others' backs, even when we tend to be pit against each-other.

But… I can make an exception. If I’m cooking for you, I’ll happily turn the spice level up a few notches. I’ll just make sure I keep a milder serving for myself.

And guitar over cooking, huh? Fair enough. We all have our thing.

Don’t worry about being halfway around the world. Family isn’t about being in the same place every day. It’s knowing that if one of us calls, the others will do everything they can to answer. So I really appreciate you saying that. It goes both ways.

You cook light, huh? That tracks. And you don't have to up the spice if you don't like it! I'm really down for eating anything, you know.

Yeah. We all do have our thing. Some nights I go out and play in bars before patrol. It's nice.

You play in bars? I didn’t know that, and that’s actually really cool! Kinda love the idea of you playing guitar before heading out on patrol! Sounds like a good way to clear your head.

And I do! Just on the nights when I have time for it. It is something to clear my head, yeah. Do you do anything like that?

And yep, I cook for myself when I can. Although weekdays are kind of a mess. Between work and the whole Batgirl stuff, there just aren’t enough hours in the day. I usually grab lunch at a little café near my workplace, then I’ll head home later and make myself something simple for dinner before patrol. Nothing fancy. Just healthy food that doesn’t take forever.

The weekends are a different story. If I actually get a quieter one, that’s when I like spending more time in the kitchen. I’ll try a new recipe, bake something or make a proper meal instead of rushing through it. I guess cooking’s one of those things that helps me slow my brain down for a bit. It’s nice to focus on something that doesn’t involve chasing criminals.

As for hobbies… to be honest, I don’t get nearly enough time for them. You must’ve guessed I read everything I can when I can, and every now and then I’ll find a little time to bake or cook just because I want to, not because I need dinner.

That sounds pretty nice! As a typical heiress, I don't bother with a day job, unless you count when cases come into the light of morning and I've found out I've been chasing someone into the dawn. Maybe I should make better use of my free time. Mind giving the name of the café? I'm curious.

That seems pretty neat. I'm glad you have something to wind down to, and hell the smell of cookies in the oven or grilling meat must be nice.

As for lunch, I usually end up at Cornerstone Café on Kane Street, just a couple of minutes from Gotham City Public Library. It’s close enough that I can walk over, eat and still get back to work without having to rush too much. So… if you’re ever around Gotham around lunchtime, are you joining me on my lunch break? You can't say no. It's your street after all, isn't it? Consider it a sign. I can’t promise it’ll be exciting. It’ll probably just be sandwiches, soup or whatever the daily special is. But I think the company would make up for it.

And yep… I get what you mean about the butler thing. I wasn’t raised with an Alfred either. My mom died when I was really little, so it was mostly just me and my dad growing up. He did his best and I learned to take care of myself pretty early. Cooking kind of became part of that.

Cornerstone Café, huh? Funny. It's on my street but I've never been. I'll definitely find the time to stop by when you're on your lunch break, no problem! It'd be nice to meet you midday for once instead of evenings in the dark.

Ah, mhm. We both have people we've lost. And ways we adapt to that, of course. You found your way with cooking. I found it in my studies, I'd say. School was my whole life after I lost Beth and Mom.

It is a fair trade. As always, I love the offer and will call you over as soon as I can manage it, after I sift through these cases. I'm sure you're busy too, with patrols. You're still Oracle on the side too, right? That's a lot of work.

And… thanks for telling me that. I think we all end up finding something to hold onto after we lose people. Yours was your studies. Mine ended up being cooking, books and… well… putting on a cape. I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to get through it. We just do the best we can.

And yep, I’m pretty busy. Library during the day, Batgirl whenever Gotham decides to be Gotham. As for Oracle… these days I’m just Babs and Batgirl, and to be honest, that’s more than enough to keep me on my toes.

I think.. all of us, in this vigilante business, tend to wear capes for those we've lost. So it doesn't happen again, so no one ever feels the same, and... so, in some way, we can make them proud. We do the best we can, and maybe being a vigilante is far from the best, but it's better than sitting and falling deeper into the drink. It's far better than nothing.

Mhm. I guess both are a lot. Even just being Batwoman is all-consuming a lot of the time.

I think you’re right. We all carry someone with us when we put the suit on. Different people, different stories, but they’re there. I don’t know if we’d make them proud every single day. We all mess up. We all have nights where we wonder if we did enough. But I do know we keep showing up. We keep trying. I think that counts for something.

You’re right about one thing too: sitting still never really suited either of us. So we’ll keep doing what we do and every once in a while we’ll remember to be normal people for an hour or two.

It does count for something. Enduring, staying strong, it's the best thing anyone can do. The strongest thing anyone can do, in my opinion. It's soldiering on. 'Never give up' is cheesy, but it's true.

I like what you said about enduring. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s real. Sometimes being strong isn’t throwing the hardest punch. Sometimes it’s just getting up the next morning and doing it all over again. And that’s what we do: we keep going.

Please, before reacting/responding, read the piece in full as there are several different 'rooms' up, such as: the cocktail hall (this post), the dining room (link), the terrace (link) and the silent auction (link).

PS: Canon characters, OCs and crossover characters may interact with the post. No response length is expected, even just side commentary is fine on this post (some may even just watch arrivals on their tv if they're not attending, for exemple). We won't police anyone's interactions, but maybe make sure you're welcome into a conversation if you hop on existing threads between people. Otherwise, feel free to hop from a location to another as you please, even hold several different conversations with the same character, it's all very free!

I take a slow lap around the room. Old habit. I like knowing where everything is before I settle anywhere. Stage in the back. Bar off to the left. Staff weaving through the crowd with trays of tiny snacks that somehow look too pretty to eat. One of them offers me a tray and I grab a small bite after making sure there’s nothing in it that’ll wreck my meal plan. Even at a fancy party, I’m not about to lose a fight to hidden cream cheese.

I glance toward the stage where the jazz band has already started playing. It’s good background music. Loud enough to fill the room, quiet enough that people can still talk without yelling over it. The speech sticks with me too. I spend enough nights chasing people who lie for a living to appreciate hearing someone stand up and talk about telling the truth instead. That’s worth something.

I smooth a glove over my cape, adjust the cowl just a little and keep walking through the room at an easy pace. Every few steps I recognize another face from TV, newspapers or one of Gotham’s charity galas. Different city, same type of people.

Then my eyes land on the silent auction tables. A fundraiser for a library? Yeah… now that gets my attention. I head that way with a grin already creeping onto my face. If somebody expects me to walk past books without stopping, they clearly don’t know me very well.

“Easy, Ms. Lane… you’re gonna have me answering to ‘Batgirl’ for the rest of the night if we’re not careful.”

I say with a quiet laugh and hook a thumb toward the crowd around us.

“Walls have ears. Newsrooms probably have even better ones.”

My attention flicks to the drink in her hand and then the cheese disappearing almost as quickly.

“How many already?”

I ask with a smirk.

“Either this party’s treating you well or you’re stress-testing the open bar.”

I glance back toward the auction display for a second.

“And I was just about to get distracted by a fundraiser for a library. That’s practically cheating when I’m around.”

I fold my arms loosely, cape settling behind me, and ask with a smile.

“So… you surviving the party so far or are you already looking for an excuse to escape?”

"Three," she shrugged. The bartenders were pouring strong but nothing her natural tolerance couldn't handle. Seven more and Clark would have to carry her out. "You know no bar can handle a Lois Lane Stress-Test."

Lois nodded about the library.

"If I had a choice between being here or crawling into bed with Jon to read him a bedtime story..." She would always choose her son first.

“I believe that. If any bar can survive a Lois Lane stress-test, it’s earned a medal.”

Then I grin at the idea of them hiring me.

“Oh, yeah. They hired me to pull rabbits out of my cape and make balloon animals. Is something about my batsuit wrong, Ms. Lane?”

I pause a few seconds before shaking my cowled head.

“Nah. I’m just here as a guest.”

I glance around the room, my smile softening a little.

“After everything that happened here a few months ago… I ended up helping get a few people out during the attacks. Mara Feig was one of them.”

My eyes drift across the room for a moment before settling back on Lois and I shrug.

“I guess somebody at GBS remembered. And when the invitation came, I asked if I could attend as Batgirl. It’s a lot easier than trying to explain why Barbara Gordon suddenly has an invitation to a GBS event. You might say the charity auction for the library was a perfect excuse, but I promise you I had no idea this was gonna happen.”

A small smile appears onto my face and I fold my arms loosely as I glance toward the crowd.

“No, no. You completely misunderstood me. Nobody here knows who I really am. You’re still in a very exclusive club.”

I keep my voice low as I motion around the room.

“When the attacks happened, I was here as Batgirl. I helped get people out, including Mara Feig. So the invitation was for Batgirl, not Barbara Gordon. When they reached out, I just asked if they were okay with me showing up in the mask. It saves me from having to explain why Barbara Gordon suddenly has a reason to be at a GBS News reopening.”

A grin spreads across my face.

“And it keeps my dad from wondering why his daughter somehow knows half the people in this room.”

I lean in just a little.

“So, no panic. My secret’s still a secret.”

I pause for a few seconds before adding with a completely straight face.

“Besides, if you told anyone, I’d have to kidnap you… okay, actually, you’re Lois Lane. You’re probably getting a little tired of being kidnapped.”

I sigh dramatically.

“So I guess I’d have to go with the other option.”

The corner of my mouth curls into a grin before I ruin the act with a quiet laugh.

The amount of times Lois' life had been on the line would've cracked a normal person's brain to smithereens. Instead she made sure a dish never broke in her presence. "Yes... my husband..." She gulped the rest of her drink down.

“Honestly, I don’t know Miss Feig that well.”

I glance around the room before lowering my voice.

“We actually met once in Gotham before all this. We ended up having dinner one evening, then a few months later the attacks happened here.”

I pause for a moment.

“She got caught inside the building and I helped get her out.”

A small smile crosses my face.

“Nothing I can really talk about. There were a lot of people digging into it afterward. Me included.”

I let out a quiet breath.

“Some cases come together fast. Some take a lot longer.”

I look over at her with a small smile.

@cannivine

I slow to a stop at the mouth of the alley, my boots scraping against the pavement as I look over the dark passage. My cape settles behind me while my eyes flick over every shadow, every fire escape, every place someone could be hiding. I fold my arms with a small shake of my head.

“You make it sound like I need an appointment before I stop someone from leaving a trail of blood behind.”

I take a few careful steps into the alley, keeping my guard up. My gaze catches on the faint smear of blood, and I crouch for a second to check it before looking back up.

“And yeah, maybe I’m late. That just means you had a head start, not that you got away with anything.”

I straighten up, planting my hands on my hips as I scan the rooftops and the narrow path ahead.

“So here’s the deal: you can keep giving me creepy little alley speeches or you can tell me who got hurt and save me some detective work.”

I shrug as a grin tugs at the corner of my mouth.

“Either way, I’m still gonna stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

I tap the yellow bat emblem on my chest with a gloved finger.

❝ Look at you.. ❞ The purr deepened into something almost categorised as fond, though a smirk of her own lay beneath the sickly sweetness. One may perhaps draw similarities to a feline taking pity upon a rodent, watching the little creature attempt a show of bravery before the inevitable end of it's life between the predators jaws. ❝ A little seedling making demands, isn't that just darling. ❞

Curling around the edges of the buildings marking the lonely alley, her vines sought out the other body in the dark -- though this one still breathed, they longed for a taste, itching to know what, exactly, a bat would feel like trapped within their confines.

A moment later, just long enough for the viciously floral scent to settle in the air, Ivy stepped out from where she'd stood, fingers coated in blood not yet dried. Despite her tone, the pair of eyes that seemed to watch the Batgirls every move carried a look of absolute boredom. It was a known fact to most that the eco-terrorist had a strong disliking -- or rather.. a strong hatred -- for humankind, but the difference between the words that fell from her tongue, and the pools of deepest green that stared into the vigilantes soul, was jarring.

❝ Why, pray tell, would I wish to assist you in any way? You and your sort have a nasty habit of.. interfering. ❞

My gaze drops for the briefest second as something brushes against my boot. Vines. I step back before they can get a proper grip, keeping my distance instead of letting myself get boxed in.

“Yeah, I interfere.”

I say with a shrug.

“Funny how that keeps happening whenever someone’s walking around with blood on their hands.”

I slowly circle to my left, looking for open space instead of letting myself get trapped against the wall. One hand hangs near my utility belt, ready if things go sideways, but I don’t reach for anything yet.

“As for helping me, I wasn’t counting on it.”

I glance at the blood again and then back up.

“But somebody’s bleeding, and I’m guessing it wasn’t an accident. So I’m gonna ask one more time.”

I stop moving and plant my feet.

“Who did you hurt?”

❝ Hm. ❞ Bare feet began carefully moving forward, stepping between the vines that eagerly glided over the cool concrete. As she walked, one arm had lifted, allowing for her tongue to drag itself along green tinted flesh stained crimson with the sticky remains of an unnamed soul, slowly clearing a path from elbow to wrist. Her eyelids fluttered, savouring the metallic taste as it filled her mouth, the warmth surprising her even now.

❝ Nobody of noteable worth. ❞ She breathed, gaze lazily flitting to the little nook she'd emerged from before returning to her beloathed vigilante. ❝ Nobody even remotely satisfactory -- though he deserved what he got. ❞

Mirroring the motions of the wet muscle that worked to clean up the plant mother's fingers, a particularly daring vine had begun to wrap itself around the Batgirl's ankle, the tip gently prodding at her leg.

❝ Interesting.. ❞ A quiet murmur, spoken so softly that the vines shivered in response, ❝ The little one seems to like you. ❞

And, judging by the curve of her lips, that didn't sound like a good thing.

“Nobody’s ‘nobody’. Maybe they made bad choices. Maybe they didn’t. Doesn’t mean they stop mattering.”

I say, my voice flat. Then something brushes against my boot. I glance down just long enough to see a vine winding around my ankle.

“Yeah… that’s not happening.”

I twist my foot, pulling free before it can tighten. Then I take two quick steps back into a patch of open pavement. My cape swings behind me as I keep moving instead of letting myself get cornered. I keep one hand hovering near my utility belt now.

“I’ve dealt with enough killer plants to know they don’t usually ask permission.”

I look past the vines for a split second, checking the alley for anyone else who might still be alive before bringing my attention right back.

“So here’s where we’re at.”

I plant my feet, keeping plenty of space between us.

“There’s blood all over you, someone’s missing and your garden’s trying to grab me. That’s three pretty good reasons for me to stay exactly where I am.”

I give a small shrug.

Batwoman, if you’re too old for social media, then half of Gotham needs to delete their accounts.

I shake my head with a laugh.

And Batman… Oh, he’s still Batman. Brooding, giving me that ‘be careful’ speech every other patrol, acting like I haven’t been doing this for years. I give him a hard time right back. It’s only fair.

I smirk.

'Be careful.' At least he still tells you that. Last time I checked in I was on some 'three strike' count. It seems these days he tries to control every vigilante, anywhere.

And he's always been controlling, but I wouldn't be surprised if he showed up while I was on some off-world mission to give me a piece of his mind on what I do with 'his' symbol.

It's good that you're good. That's relieving to hear. I'm just investigating more of R.O.C. 's cults and the like. Dad's got some of his men monitoring the sanatorium Beth's in, just to be sure they don't go after her again.

First of all, if I ever catch you posting a blurry selfie with ‘Living my best life 😎’ on it, you can bet I’m saving the screenshot.

I make the joke and pause for a second before getting serious.

And yep… Batman can be a lot. I love him, but sometimes I think he forgets we’re not recruits anymore.

As for the cult… that part just sucks. Nobody should have to keep looking over their shoulder wondering who’s next. You, Beth, your dad… that’s a lot to carry.

I rest my chin in my hand for a moment.

I get why you’re tired of it. They’re obsessed, and people like that don’t know when to quit. But you know what? You’re still here. Every time they’ve tried to break you or your family, you’ve gotten back up. That doesn’t make any of this okay, but it says something about you.”

I love him. Somewhat. Well, obviously, actually. Blood runs thicker than water. Family is family, even if it's a man with less than favourable negative traits mixed in with the good. Like... a very average granola, I suppose. There's good and the bad.

It does suck. Thanks for listening to me, I'm glad I can talk to someone other than off-loading to my father or Bruce, when he's particularly amicable.

They are obsessed. Awfully so, but I guess by now it's nothing I can't handle. As always, I was forged by fire, not anyone in particular. I'll take your words as a compliment, but endurance is something built into me.

Through every military training, through all of my father's training, I was taught to 'soldier up.' And when you serve, you serve for life– even long after you've retired. I'm always ready for a fight, and I won't plan on backing down any time soon. Enough creepy cults can keep bugging me, I'll hold my own.

And ‘average granola’ might be my new favorite way to describe Batman.

I’m really glad you told me all this. I know you’ve been taught to keep moving no matter what gets thrown at you, and I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself. But you don’t always have to be the strong one. Even people like us deserve to put everything down for a little while.

So how about this? Next time we’re both free, come over and let me cook us lunch or dinner. Nothing complicate, just some good food, a quiet evening, and no masks, no patrols, no cults, and no Batman reminding us to be careful every five minutes.

It would be nice to hang out. I'd like to try your cooking, mine isn't.. the best.

I really appreciate it. And I'll have you know if you ever need me, or if any of you do at the cave, I'll try my best to be available. Working with a team at the Belfry– even with the Colony, wasn't all so bad.

So.. yeah. Feel free to come over when we're both free. It'd be welcome. As much as being a cape is my life, there should be a balance.

I’m really looking forward to it. I like cooking when I get the chance, especially if it’s for family. Actually… what’s your favorite dish? If I’m inviting you over, I might as well make something you really enjoy. I can’t promise it’ll be restaurant quality, but I promise it’ll be made with a lot more care than anything we’d grab between patrols.

And thanks. It means a lot knowing you’d be there if any of us needed you. I hope it never comes to that, but it’s nice knowing we’ve always got each other’s backs. You should definitely come by the Manor sometime. We all spend so much time running around that we forget we’re allowed to just exist together once in a while.

I’ll tell Batman you said hi. I might even leave out the part where you called him average granola. Depends on how many lectures he gives me before then.

I'm glad you like cooking. I can follow a recipe fine, I enjoy it as I do it but it's not my passion. Not like playing guitar or fighting crime. And my favorite dish? That's a hard question. Nothing in particular, but I like things with lots of flavor, if that helps. Spices.

Of course I'd be there. Even though I can't say I really am there all the time– it's more than likely I'm in another country for months at a time, I think of you all as family. Or, well, whatever's closest to it. And we have to keep each-others' backs, even when we tend to be pit against each-other.

But… I can make an exception. If I’m cooking for you, I’ll happily turn the spice level up a few notches. I’ll just make sure I keep a milder serving for myself.

And guitar over cooking, huh? Fair enough. We all have our thing.

Don’t worry about being halfway around the world. Family isn’t about being in the same place every day. It’s knowing that if one of us calls, the others will do everything they can to answer. So I really appreciate you saying that. It goes both ways.

You cook light, huh? That tracks. And you don't have to up the spice if you don't like it! I'm really down for eating anything, you know.

Yeah. We all do have our thing. Some nights I go out and play in bars before patrol. It's nice.

You play in bars? I didn’t know that, and that’s actually really cool! Kinda love the idea of you playing guitar before heading out on patrol! Sounds like a good way to clear your head.

And I do! Just on the nights when I have time for it. It is something to clear my head, yeah. Do you do anything like that?

And yep, I cook for myself when I can. Although weekdays are kind of a mess. Between work and the whole Batgirl stuff, there just aren’t enough hours in the day. I usually grab lunch at a little café near my workplace, then I’ll head home later and make myself something simple for dinner before patrol. Nothing fancy. Just healthy food that doesn’t take forever.

The weekends are a different story. If I actually get a quieter one, that’s when I like spending more time in the kitchen. I’ll try a new recipe, bake something or make a proper meal instead of rushing through it. I guess cooking’s one of those things that helps me slow my brain down for a bit. It’s nice to focus on something that doesn’t involve chasing criminals.

As for hobbies… to be honest, I don’t get nearly enough time for them. You must’ve guessed I read everything I can when I can, and every now and then I’ll find a little time to bake or cook just because I want to, not because I need dinner.

That sounds pretty nice! As a typical heiress, I don't bother with a day job, unless you count when cases come into the light of morning and I've found out I've been chasing someone into the dawn. Maybe I should make better use of my free time. Mind giving the name of the café? I'm curious.

That seems pretty neat. I'm glad you have something to wind down to, and hell the smell of cookies in the oven or grilling meat must be nice.

As for lunch, I usually end up at Cornerstone Café on Kane Street, just a couple of minutes from Gotham City Public Library. It’s close enough that I can walk over, eat and still get back to work without having to rush too much. So… if you’re ever around Gotham around lunchtime, are you joining me on my lunch break? You can't say no. It's your street after all, isn't it? Consider it a sign. I can’t promise it’ll be exciting. It’ll probably just be sandwiches, soup or whatever the daily special is. But I think the company would make up for it.

And yep… I get what you mean about the butler thing. I wasn’t raised with an Alfred either. My mom died when I was really little, so it was mostly just me and my dad growing up. He did his best and I learned to take care of myself pretty early. Cooking kind of became part of that.

Cornerstone Café, huh? Funny. It's on my street but I've never been. I'll definitely find the time to stop by when you're on your lunch break, no problem! It'd be nice to meet you midday for once instead of evenings in the dark.

Ah, mhm. We both have people we've lost. And ways we adapt to that, of course. You found your way with cooking. I found it in my studies, I'd say. School was my whole life after I lost Beth and Mom.

It is a fair trade. As always, I love the offer and will call you over as soon as I can manage it, after I sift through these cases. I'm sure you're busy too, with patrols. You're still Oracle on the side too, right? That's a lot of work.

And… thanks for telling me that. I think we all end up finding something to hold onto after we lose people. Yours was your studies. Mine ended up being cooking, books and… well… putting on a cape. I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to get through it. We just do the best we can.

And yep, I’m pretty busy. Library during the day, Batgirl whenever Gotham decides to be Gotham. As for Oracle… these days I’m just Babs and Batgirl, and to be honest, that’s more than enough to keep me on my toes.

I think.. all of us, in this vigilante business, tend to wear capes for those we've lost. So it doesn't happen again, so no one ever feels the same, and... so, in some way, we can make them proud. We do the best we can, and maybe being a vigilante is far from the best, but it's better than sitting and falling deeper into the drink. It's far better than nothing.

Mhm. I guess both are a lot. Even just being Batwoman is all-consuming a lot of the time.

I think you’re right. We all carry someone with us when we put the suit on. Different people, different stories, but they’re there. I don’t know if we’d make them proud every single day. We all mess up. We all have nights where we wonder if we did enough. But I do know we keep showing up. We keep trying. I think that counts for something.

You’re right about one thing too: sitting still never really suited either of us. So we’ll keep doing what we do and every once in a while we’ll remember to be normal people for an hour or two.